


diaries & letters

by sportsanime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Suicide, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sportsanime/pseuds/sportsanime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru changed Hajime; now Oikawa Tooru is gone, and the only thing Hajime holds on to is his diary, his letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	diaries & letters

**Oikawa Tooru Will:**

  
**All my beautiful pictures - Iwa-chan**

  
**My volleyballs - Iwa-chan**

  
**My knee-brace - Iwa-chan**

  
**Takeru - Iwa-chan (take good care of Take-chan, Iwa-chan!)**

  
**The box of Valentine’s chocolates I never opened - Iwa-chan**

  
**The diary Ai-chan gave me - Iwa-chan**

 

Iwaizumi stares out of the train window, and his eyes are clouded. One would perhaps assume that he is thinking: thinking of revenge, of hatred, of resent and above all, sadness.

  
It’s exactly the opposite. Iwaizumi Hajime cannot think; he cannot feel. He is numb; terror has left him in it’s own fear to escape from the monster struggling within Iwaizumi.  
It is as though Iwaizumi has forgotten. He is like a robot, without feeling, without emotion, without anger, without tears.

  
He cannot bring himself to look through his camera, nor through the diary that Oikawa gave him, the one sign that Oikawa Tooru had lived, had loved, he had laughed, and at the end of it all, he had left. Iwaizumi is a broken robot, and he wants to cry except he DOESN’T, because he doesn’t feel. He can’t feel.

  
That’s when two young boys burst into the compartment. If this was the past, Iwaizumi would have yelled at them to get out, but he is a broken statue now, unable to speak, unable to scold or insult, or cause pain, not anything, not ever.

  
The boys sit, and Iwaizumi’s dead gaze drifts to them. They chatter together of video games, of sports (volleyball, hears Iwaizumi, but it is like an echo, and echo of the past, of days where two other boys stood behind a net, anticipating the whistle which would signify the start of the game, the game which would often go on for hours, until a team lost, until a team won. Game over).

  
(And yet, even when Oikawa and Iwaizumi lost, their attitudes would never waver. They were sunshine and moon, the bright and the dark, but the world cannot survive without both of them, keeping each other sane.)

  
Iwaizumi listens as the boys talk about their crushes. He hears, and yet he doesn’t listen.

  
It is only meaningless rambling, after all. Iwaizumi Hajime is used to it.

  
His best friend used to ramble, rambles of “Iwa-chan,” of “Tobio-chan,” of “Ushiwaka-chan.” He had-no, has always been optimistic, affectionate, sweet.

  
(At least, that’s what everyone thinks; Iwaizumi knows Oikawa’s other side, the monster that would cry into his shirt after practicing for hours, hours put in to beat naturally gifted people. Oikawa has always been so insecure, and no one has ever seen it. That’s why it hurt Iwaizumi so much when everyone at Oikawa’s funeral talked solely of Oikawa’s smile - Oikawa’s false smile, except only Iwaizumi knows Oikawa’s true smile.

  
Even now after Oikawa committed suicide, everyone thinks of him as a happy person. No one gets it).

  
Iwaizumi can almost feel himself, now, drifting back to reality. It’s not a reality Iwaizumi likes; these boys are so very noisy, and now a cute girl with her cute boyfriend have joined them all, and they are whispering sweet words in each other’s ears, words that mean nothing, and Iwaizumi is breaking, breaking, because god, he can remember days spent with Oikawa under the sun, speaking of aliens, playing volleyball, crying and laughing, feeling and hearing, seeing the world in color.

  
The world is not beautiful without Oikawa Tooru.

  
Iwaizumi Hajime can almost feel tears tracing their way down his face, and they are laughing at him and -

  
“Oy! Hey! Stranger!”

  
Iwaizumi’s neck snaps to the blond-haired boy who is quite obviously talking to him, a small frown on his face.

  
(He recognizes that frown, it is a frown of confusion, one that Iwaizumi has seen many-a-times on Oikawa’s face after Oikawa had been pushed down in volleyball by some genius. Somehow, seeing that expression on the boy’s face, Iwaizumi is overwhelmed by the sadness of familiarity, because he knows that expression, and it has hurt his best friend countless times.

He has to duck his head).

  
When he raises his head once again, both small boys are watching him, looking thoughtful. “Stranger,” singsongs one boy. “Wanna play a game? I’m bored!”

  
“Let’s play iSpy,” suggests the other boy.

  
The talkative one with the blond hair who had spoken only moments before waved a hand, and saying, “Nawwwwwww.” His eyes are alight with happiness, and Iwaizumi longs for something like that, something solid to hold on to.

  
Something? What a joke; Iwaizumi knows it as well as anything. The only solid being he wants to hold on to is Oikawa, Oikawa with his eyes like this boy’s, Oikawa with his true smile and soft hands, Oikawa with his clenched teeth as he holds onto his knee brace, Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru, _Tooru_.

  
“So maybe truth or dare?” suggests the other boy, the one who hasn’t been talking much, but the words are bouncing off Iwaizumi’s ears because everything turns to nothing without Tooru, and even the words truth or dare bring back hundreds, maybe thousands of memories. Being dragged along to sleepover parties and playing truth or dare, - “who do you have a crush on, Tooru-kun?” “Oh, his name’s Iwa-chan! He’s sitting right over there!” “You little shit-“ - watching shoujo anime with Oikawa in which a girl is dared to ask her crush out, god that was so lame, and the only reason Oikawa liked it was because he just as lame as those cliche shoujo cartoons he consistently watched.

  
“Yeah, truth or dare!” The boy with the blond hair’s eyes become even lighter, and now they are chocolate that has been left out in the sun and long since melted.

  
Maybe the chocolate could even rot, in this case, because nothing lasts forever and these chocolatey eyes that are so much like Oikawa’s are too light, much too light.

  
“Yay,” replies that other boy, less enthusiastic.

  
“I’ll start! What’s your name?” the talkative blond-haired boy asks Iwaizumi, to which he mumbles, “Hajime.” Smaller kids - actually, these kids are not that small, they are about 13 to 14 years old each, but still - don't tend to care much about Japanese tradition and being called by your last name by strangers.

  
“Cool! I’m Tatsu,” says Mr. Blond-and-Talkative. “That’s Hiro.” He points at his quiet friend.

  
Iwaizumi decides this is not the time to say, “I don’t care.”

  
No matter. The cute girl with her cute boyfriend look at the odd trio in distaste and continue kissing.

  
There’s a bad taste in Hajime’s mouth. This would have been so, so fun with Oikawa. Making fun of people’s clothing, laughing over little things, maybe Iwaizumi could confess.

  
“HAJIMEEEEE, TRUTH OR DARE?”

  
“Truth,” Hajime replies automatically. His emotions might slowly be returning what with the constant steady movement of the train, and the boys who are bugging him over every little thing, but he’s not ready to get up and do something silly, like chicken dance or confess to some random girl that he loves her.

  
“Have you ever killed someone?” Hiro butts in.

  
“No,” says Hajime and that’s that. _I’m considering killing both of you right now, though. Leave me the fuck alone._

  
-

  
Slowly but surely, Hajime is getting distracted. He is no longer spending every second with his heart beating in his head, thinking, I could have stopped him, I could have kissed him, made him realize, open his eyes, he wouldn’t have done it, _why me, why us, why you._

  
Not to mention, Hajime has learned something new today. He can listen to people he doesn’t give a shit about talk without trying to murder them.

  
He would add that to “Hajime’s list of achievements” if he had the energy, but he unfortunately doesn't.

  
That’s why when the time comes for, “Hajime! Truth or dare?” Hajime decides to let go of everything...

  
“Dare,” he says, getting quite confident at this point.

  
“Open that diary and read to us!” says Tatsu, a pure, innocent smile on his face.

  
…but letting go of everything is not easy.

  
Hajime doesn’t HAVE to read from Tooru’s diary. He doesn’t have to tell everyone Tooru’s secrets, maybe Tooru’s suicide note, Tooru’s whole life.

  
He picks up the diary.

  
“Is that yours?” asks Hiro suddenly, and Hajime glances at the two naive boys with a wry smile.

  
“Not mine,” says Iwaizumi, and he flips to page one. This is Tooru’s childhood; it was so many years ago that Tooru’s cousin, Ai-chan, had given him this diary.

  
It is full of scribbling, of happiness, of true smiles and days spent with Hajime, discussing aliens, bugs, how pretty life was.

  
Hajime knows that slowly, the diary entries will not be filled with pleasure, with comments of he and his best friend, but of Tobio, of Ushijima, of “I have to beat them, I have to beat them!”

  
It will start dropping moods, no more smiles, no more happiness.

  
“‘Hi'!” reads Hajime. “My name is Tooru and I got a diary today, on my birthday!” Hajime stops and he swallows. He remembers that day. He’d given Oikawa a bug in a jar, and Oikawa had cried. He was scared of bugs back then, and he had been until the moment he died.

  
It was a little bit pathetic, but so is Hajime right now, reading with no sense of purpose, reading something that belongs to someone dead just to shut some kids up. It's ridiculous is what it is.

  
“Who’s Tooru?” asks Tatsu curiously.

  
“He was my best friend,” says Hajime flatly. He doesn’t feel like holding a conversation right now, he doesn’t feel like talking much either.

  
“Was?” Tatsu’s eyes are brighter than usual, or maybe it's Hajime's imagination. 

  
“'Iwa-chan got me a really ugly bug,”' continues Hajime. “You little shit-“ Hajime’s teeth clench and he almost feels like Oikawa is right here, saying those words. “'It’s really ugly and everyth-‘ you already said that!” Hajime's voice breaks and he swallows before looking around the compartment. Both the boys are staring at Hajime at this point, and even the lovey-dovey couple have broken apart, looking puzzled. The girl raises an eyebrow at her boyfriend, who shrugs in response.

  
“Who’s Iwa-chan?” says Hiro.

  
“Me,” says Hajime, aka Iwa-chan. “‘Today was the best day ever! Me and Iwa-chan went to play volleyball and the other boys said I was a meanie but Iwa-chan didn’t.’" God, Tooru is so simple-minded, but Hajime doesn’t mind, not today, because he’s being pulled into a memory lane and it makes him miss Oikawa Tooru.

  
In a good way.

  
Hajime goes on, reading about Tooru’s childhood, full of smiles, the true smiles that hadn’t showed up for the past few years now.

  
He stops dead at one entry. This one is hurriedly scribbled, and it is years after his last diary entry; Hajime can tell by the date on the right hand side of the entry. “Um. 'Tobio-chan beat my…team…I wasn’t serving most of the time in the game so it’s understandable! We’ll do much better next time, with Iwa-chan and me together in the same game!’”

  
It’s true. Aobajousai could have easily won, if Oikawa and Iwaizumi had played together. Iwaizumi glances out the window and the sky is red, not like the blood Oikawa shed so many times. A comforting red, and it’s beautiful.

  
He glances back at the diary. The false cheery voice conveyed is exactly that - false.

  
It’s starting, the fake smile, and it’s horrible, it's fucking horrible.

  
Hajime goes on, through entries conveying hatred, entries conveying false security, _false, false, false, false._

  
He stops dead at the last entry. Just as Hajime had expected: it’s a suicide note.

  
“Uhm,” says Iwaizumi. “The diary’s finished.”

  
“AWWWWWW,” say the boys in unison, and Hajime closes the door with a snap.

  
He’s tired, and he knows he won’t be able to read the note. He lowers his head into his knees, and then the tears come, the sign that Hajime really did love his best friend, so much. So much that his own eyes haven’t lit up ever since he got the message with Tooru’s parents: he’s dead.

  
Hajime had known right away who they were talking about. He’d known right away that music would never be the same, happiness would never be the same.

  
Hajime had known that he wouldn’t be able to watch an alien movie without thinking of the deceased best friend who he’d never gotten to tell the truth to.

  
And then Hajime falls asleep, but it is far from peaceful.

  
-  
-  
-

  
They are seventeen year olds, and watching a horror movie together. Tooru jumps up at every little sound, and Hajime is texting Kindaichi to let him know what time practice is. It is a gloomy day outside, and it fits the horror movie perfectly.

  
“Iwa-channnnnn,” whines Oikawa. “This is scary!”

  
“You picked it,” says Iwaizumi. “Shut up.”

  
“Can we cudddddleeeeeeeee?”

  
“No.”

  
“Pleassseeeeee?”

  
“Go to hell, Dumbasskawa.”

  
“Uwaa, what kind of nickname is that?”

  
“It fits you perfectly.”

  
And then Oikawa smiles, and it’s a true smile, but god, it’s small, so much smaller than his childhood smiles.

  
Iwaizumi wants to make him smile, tell him the truth. That Hajime's been in love with him since they were 9 and they accidentally brushed arms in a race for the nearest bug. That Hajime used to kiss his pillow and pretend it was Oikawa. That Hajime knows that Oikawa's probably straight but he doesn't care because he's hopelessly in love with him.

Iwaizumi just wants to tell him the truth.

.

  
He never gets to.

  
-  
-  
-  
Hajime wakes up in his own sweat and tears. He’d only slept about 20 minutes; there are still at least two hours until the train arrives to….wherever the hell it’s arriving. Two more people have joined the compartment, two men. Iwaizumi thinks he’s seen them on TV, maybe. They’re volleyball players from Tokyo, aren’t they? They're really good, Hajime can remember.

  
“Hi!” says one of them. “I’m Bokuto!” He jabs a thumb towards his chest. “Remember the name, ‘cause I’m best at the volleyball games!”

  
“Be quiet, Bokuto-san,” says the other man, but he has a small smile on his face, and Iwaizumi knows.

  
“Cool!” Hiro suddenly talks. “You guys-hey, Hajime, I know you! You’re a volleyball player, aren’t you? I didn’t recognise you 'cause your hair is different! And you two are Bokuto and Akaashi!”

  
“That’s the most you’ve talked so far,” remarks Tatsu, his voice weighted with sarcasm. “Hey, does that mean…Tooru? OIKAWA TOORU?”

  
“He’s dead,” says Hajime, and leaves it at that.

  
He’s still tired, and the train has long to arrive, but he can’t bring himself to take out the diary, can’t bring himself to…read Oikawa’s last words. The last words that would, no doubt, make Iwaizumi cry.

  
“I’m sorry,” says Akaashi then, in his quiet manner, but Iwaizumi doesn’t want to hear “I'm sorry”, flat and formal apologies that mean nothing, because Oikawa is dead, no matter how many times people give their condolences.

  
But it would be rude not to thank Akaashi, and so in that dead voice of him, the voice that died as soon as Oikawa had, he says, “Thank you.”

  
-

  
The train is coming to a stop for the last time. Iwaizumi packs everything up in the big bag he brought with him. Not a suitcase because he'd have to roll that along and that would really remind him of when Oikawa sat on his suitcase and Iwaizumi was forced to roll it along anyway, and  _fuck, everything reminds him of Oikawa, doesn't it?_

  
So Hajime puts his shit away.

 

Except for the diary. He keeps a tight hold on the diary, as though letting go would ruin everything, and maybe it would. That's not the main issue, though. The things is...for some reason, Iwaizumi wants to read the suicide note. He knows that the note was most likely addressed to him anyway. Iwaizumi was the most important person in Oikawa's life, and that's not arrogance because it was fucking true and it really still is.

  
He tucks the book under his arm, and gets up. His new _friends_ ask him for his phone number. He makes a quick decision and then gives it to them.

  
It’s all just routine, normal stuff, except to Iwaizumi, Oikawa is part of routine, and without Oikawa, nothing feels right.

 

Whatever.

  
“Bye Bokuto, bye Akaashi, bye Tatsu and Hiro. Bye, uh, Melissa, and, uh, Robert.” The couple who were kissing have name tags with their first names on. Foreigners.

  
They all chant, “Bye!” but there is surely a melancholy note behind the words; Iwaizumi can sense it.

  
Iwaizumi walks off of the train, nodding at the driver, and then flipping to the last page in Oikawa’s diary.

 

**If you're not Hajime Iwaizumi, go away. I'm dead so you have to listen to me. If you're Hajime Iwaizumi, Iwa-chan, keep reading because I have something to tell you that I should have told you a million years ago.**

 

**Hey Iwa-chan. If you’re reading this, you’re probably sad. Really sad, ‘cause I’m gone. And you're probably the only sad person who's sad cause I'm gone. Thanks.**

  
**Anyway. You're probably wondering why I left, and fuck if I'm not wondering why I left too. Jesus Christ, I just…I don’t know why. I hate the idea of, well, being. Being, and being worse than anyone. That’s such a stupid reason to stop living, especially when I have you, but, remember your girlfriend? I felt like I lost you then. When you got your girlfriend. I'm not being articulate. Sorry.**

  
**You’ve probably broken up with her by now. Sorry again. It was probably because of me. I have so much shit to apologise for.**

  
**Just wanted you to know, I never thought I’d really do it. Maybe you thought I would. You know me far better than I know myself. You know that.**

  
**I just wanted to say sorry, but you probably don’t wanna hear that, so…I love you? Thanks for staying strong?**

  
**I’m so happy I have you.**

  
**God, I love you. I love you I love you I love you.**

**I'm gonna be a goddamn kid again and say that I love love you. Same way I used to say I like liked those girls. I love love you. If this were real life, I'd lean in and whisper, "I love you." I would have married you, y'know. If you'd have me. I love you. Sorry, I said that already. I just. Yeah.**

 

**Good night, Hajime~**

**Tell my fangirls I never loved them.**

  
**Tell Tobio and Ushiwaka that they don’t deserve to have known me.**

  
**Tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’re the only reason I’ve been alive until now.**

  
**I love you. You know that, right?**

  
They're not laid back words, really. Iwaizumi can feel the overwhelming pressure of Oikawa writing, thinking of him, tears falling down his face while smiling that trembling smile. But this time, it would be genuine.

  
(And the sad thing is, their love was requited, but neither had known, not until now).

  
“I love you,” reads Iwaizumi, and then he leaves the train, trying to feel composed.

  
He collapses on a bench in the station, and he cries.

  
(The tears fall, and Iwaizumi is so overwhelmed by sadness and he's not numb anyway, but god, how is he supposed to live, without an alien nerd by his side?

  
He cries.)


End file.
